


Stolen moments

by Gabriel4Sam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Good riddance, Palpatine is Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21603748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/pseuds/Gabriel4Sam
Summary: Mon Mothma is hiding with her Jedi protector. Despite that beginning, this isn’t a story about murder attempts.
Relationships: Boil/Waxer (Star Wars), Obi-Wan Kenobi/Mon Mothma
Comments: 22
Kudos: 71
Collections: Fun/Humour/Crack in a Galaxy Far Far Away, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	Stolen moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wrennette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/gifts).



> Thank you to Lego for her awesome patience

The Chancellor of the Republic was hiding in her bedroom with her Jedi bodyguard.

It read like the beginning of a holonovel, a political thriller, perhaps **,** with one or two mysterious dead bodies- a Rhodian mogul and too many almost-naked Twi’lek ladies. 

Like most political holonovel thrillers.

Or perhaps it could be the beginning of a murder mystery,like Snorr Syrilax's popular 'Death in the Hyperlane' Series. Judicial would be crawling around her apartment, trying to find clues about the gruesome murders- if this had been that sort of story. There also would have been too many almost-naked Twi’lek ladies, because holonovel writers had a tendency to think that exposed flesh could substitute itself for good writing.

Despite that beginning, this wasn’t that sort of story.

Mon Mothma, freshly elected Chancellor of the Republic, felt instead like she was in some sort of comedy holodrama, the sort with a catchy tune, one billion episodes, and a disjointed plot where the characters revealed themselves to be long-lost siblings (only to discover their  **_also_ ** long-lost father figure, who returned in dramatic fashion to save the family farm, ship, space station, or whatever was en vogue at the time).

She felt ridiculous, yet she wouldn’t have moved from their hiding spot in her bedroom for anything in the world. Here she was, the Chancellor of the Republic, the most powerful person in hundreds of systems, and her Jedi bodyguard, a member of the revered Jedi Council, hiding from her two clones bodyguards for fear of interrupting them!

“We should say we’re here,” Obi-Wan Kenobi, her Jedi bodyguard for the day, whispered against her ear, so low she struggled to understand the words. In the dark of the room, she could feel his breath against her skin every time he spoke, causing long shivers down her spine.

She grabbed his hand, like she wanted to stop him from interrupting the conversation in the other room, the conversation they were eavesdropping on despite themselves. From their position, they couldn’t understand the words. Only a murmur reached them, and if they interrupted the two men, perhaps the discussion would never be restarted. Mon Mothma had been waiting for them to clean up their acts regarding this particular subject for months, since she had come to know them enough to understand what exactly was happening.

“If you even think of letting them know we’re here, I’m sending you to the furthest Salt Mines I can find!” she whispered fiercely in turn.

“You abolished the law giving you that sort of power yourself, three months ago,” he retorted

Mon Mothma snorted, in a very unlady-like manner. “I’ll find a way,” she half-laughed as Obi-wan buried his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

Mon Mothma smiled at his reaction.

“I’ve spent months enduring their endless pining, their misunderstandings. Months waiting for the day when one of them would say something, something about the love they so obviously share, instead seeing them muddle into every direction except the proper one! Not to mention that liaison with the Mon Calamari envoy-.”

“Don’t talk to me about it,” Obi-Wan said. “I had whiplash from the second-hand jealousy seeping into the Force every time I was less than twenty meters from them.”

Mon Mothma had a decided smile. She hadn’t become Chancellor by lacking stubbornness “-So, I’m ready to stay here until they solve this tension between them for good, one way or another.”

In her living room, the shouting had started again.

“I’m sending them for remedial training,” Obi-Wan said suddenly.

This time, Mon turned to him in surprise “Why? They’re efficient, I think. From what I know of the duties of a bodyguard, at least from the other side of the fence. Don’t the results speak for themselves? They have been on protection detail since I announced I would run for Chancellor. I ran, I won, and I’m still there, aren’t I? The Order can offer a bodyguard only for an official event, but the rest of the time, my safety relies on them.”

“We’re half an hour past the moment where you were supposed to come back to your apartment,” Obi-Wan explained. “They should already have tried to contact us. And they definitely should have verified all the rooms of the apartment when they arrived, instead of sniping and shouting at each other.”

“But, then, they would have found us,” Mon retorted, not clarifying why that would have been bad, either because the other two in her living room wouldn’t have had the conversation they deeply needed, or because she wouldn’t have been there, alone with Obi-Wan.

Since the death of Palpatine and the renewal of the Republic, she had seen a lot of Obi-Wan. Many of those moments with that particular Jedi had been full of unsaid things, unexplained, and unclarified. Mon Mothma wasn’t ready for words and she understood it was even more complicated for him.

To set sights on a Jedi was stupid. Not as stupid as it had been before- before the war and everything which had been shaken loose by the conflict. Even now, Padme Amidala’s career would never recover from loving Anakin Skywalker, and neither would Skywalker’s place in the Order. Even if it had been the lie, not the marriage, which had lost them their respective careers, and even if, in this strange, new post-war world where everything seemed possible, a few Jedi had publicly found love... The Chancellor and a Jedi? 

In the other room, a suspicious silence fell, followed by a strange noise, like a body in full armour falling against a flat unforgiving surface.

Mon and Obi-Wan looked at each other, pink on their cheeks.

“Are they…”

“Oh no, they wouldn’t? In my living room? When I’m supposed to arrive?”

“Not sure they remember other people exist,” Obi-Wan admitted, creeping, silent as a Jedi could be to the door. He waited another second, and then, not hearing anything else, risked a glance, immediately receiving an eyeful. Apparently, Boil and Waxer had resolved their quarrel for the moment and one of them - Obi-Wan couldn’t see which - had the other pinned against the wall, kissing like their lives depended on it. As Obi-Wan debated if this was really good moment to speak, the first piece of armour fell to the ground, and he beat a hasty retreat.

A few assassins, a Nightsister, or even a Sith - they would have been better than the sensation of encroaching on this private moment. He was pretty sure those two idiots were about to have their first time, right here, right now, in Mon Mothma’s living room, when the Chancellor was supposed there.

“So much remedial training,” Obi-Wan grumbled, cheeks flushing.

“What do we do?” Mon asked when he turned back to her eyeing her clothes. Thank the Force, Chandrila, her home planet, had more common sense in terms of dressing up their politicians than Naboo with their meters and meters of brocade and headdresses weighty enough to test the neck of their wearer.

“Do you have a cape?” he asked, and when she had hidden the luminous white of her dress inside the folds of a grey cape, he opened the window and helped her step out on the balcony near a decorative caryatid sculpted with flowing robes similar to those draped around the Chancellor’s thin form. From the other room, the so-called conversation devolved into noises better left unheard for unintentional eavesdroppers .

“Are we supposed to spend the next hour hiding here?” she asked skeptically. “Yes, we can’t hear those two anymore, but before long, someone will call the holonews about the Chancellor alone on her balcony with a dashing Jedi.”

Obi-Wan snaked a firm arm around her waist and promised, “We won’t fall.” And then he jumped, still holding the Chancellor, and she would have yelled in terror, if not for the chance she might distract the Jedi. The air rushed around them as they moved in a manner contradicting every law of physics. He knew what he was doing, of course, and only a handful of seconds later, they were safely on the sidewalk, three buildings north and twenty stories down. She didn’t know if she wanted to slap him or take him in her arms and laugh. The rush of adrenaline was making her tremble. Around them, people paid them no heed, not even slowing in their walk. On Coruscant, nothing surprised anyone anymore.

“Mon?” Obi-Wan asked, and she saw in his eyes he feared to have overstepped in a moment of boldness.

“A little more warning, next time,” she replied. “Or I will slap you.”

“Politicians grow more ferocious every day”.

“Good politicians don’t jump from their bedroom window with a Jedi,” Mon laughed, and she pushed up her cowl to hide her well-known face the best she could. She felt alive, sparks dancing across her nerves. She loved her job, she understood her duty, but there was something exhilarating in the transgression of this moment.

“Come,” she ordered. “If I have a few hours of respite and anonymity, I want to make the most of it.”

“To be honest, I thought I would take you to the Senate.”

“And suddenly you’re lacking an adventurous spirit?” Mon retorted, taking his hand in a moment of courage, pulling him along.

“I had quite enough adventures during the war,” he protested, following Mon Mothma as she took them in the opposite direction of the Senate, intoxicating herself in the freedom of the crowds. Obi-Wan had pushed his own cowl over his head and in that moment, nobody knew who they were, the Chancellor and her bodyguard, now only two beings, free of duty, lost in the sea of sentients that was Coruscant. Mon Mothma laughed, then ran, keeping Obi-wan's hand in hers as the Jedi easily matched her pace, soon coming to her side. When she stumbled on a broken piece of sidewalk, Obi-Wan’s protective arm saved her from a fall, and without really understanding how it happened, they found themselves huddled against a closed repair shop. He cradled the back of her neck and finally,  _ finally _ , after almost six months desiring that moment, his lips were on hers.

Coruscant, uncaring as ever, passed them by, not realizing the scoop that could be sold to the holonews, as the two humans kissed again and again.

It was the high-pitched horn in the closest lane of speeders that stopped them. They exchanged two shy smiles without a word, and then Obi-Wan took her hand again as they lost themselves in the crowd a second time. He guided her round the capital planet, Mon remembering when she had been an aide, then a junior politician- when she could make the most of the most exciting city in the Republic without a whole security detail.

Without talking about it, they avoided public transport, simply walking, hand in hand, as Mon gorged herself on the colours and smells and people. After nearly an hour, they arrived at a small diner with a broken neon sign and a creaking door, where Obi-Wan asked the Basilik cook for a discreet booth and two of his specials of the day.

Here, hidden by the tall booths, Mon dared to put down her cowl.

The special was too sugary and the caf stronger that she liked, but outside, night was falling, and in this grimy dinner, in their little bubble, the moment was perfect. She never wanted to leave, or at least, she wanted to pretend the night could be eternal and that a very irate Commander Cody, in charge of Coruscant security and technically Obi-Wan’s boss, wouldn’t come through the door in the next hour with a tale about Boil and Waxer’s panic and a sarcastic eyebrow that could make a stubborn Jedi and politician fall in line.

She took Obi-Wan’s hand again and he smiled, putting a kiss on her fingers.

It was only stolen time, but whatever would happen, it was a perfect moment. 


End file.
